


The Scrooge and the Soulmark

by Caedmon



Series: Advent [15]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Soulmark AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:46:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8856727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: Ian Noble hates Christmas, and the soulmark on his arm is entirely to blame.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written with Twelve in mind, but could be Nine if you squint. 
> 
> Day 15 of ['Advent'.](http://archiveofourown.org/series/596995)

Ian Noble was a scrooge, a proper Christmas-hater. Everything to do with the season annoyed him and he lashed out more often than not. He snarked at bell-ringers, criticized carol-singers, and frowned upon Christmas cheer in general with an air of disdain. He had no use for the season that brought everyone else such joy. It was nothing but misery for him, and Christmas could go rot, for all he cared. 

He hadn’t always been that way. Ian had enjoyed Christmas in his youth as much as any young person who was full of hope and life did. He’d spent the season with his family just like most people; he’d popped crackers and worn paper crowns and opened gifts and sung carols like most every celebrant of the holidays had. 

Then on his 21st birthday, his soulmark appeared, inked onto his forearm. 

_Merry Christmas._

At first he’d been thrilled to find the words imprinted into his flesh. What delightful words! They meant that the very first thing his soulmate would say to him would be a kindness, and that was a wonderful omen for a happy life. Wasn’t it? He rather thought so. 

The first time someone had wished him Merry Christmas after his birthday was at a drive-thru. He nearly rammed the car in front of him trying to get to the window to see the woman who was meant to be his...only to find that she wore a wedding band and three birthstone charms on her necklace.

Okay. Not this one, then. He’d driven away disappointed, but there were billions of other people in the world. One of them was meant for him. 

For the rest of that holiday season, every time someone said the traditional holiday greeting, he felt a surge of hope and joy. Maybe _this_ was the one. Maybe _this_ was his Match. 

But each time, it turned out to be a false lead. The people who had wished him a Merry Christmas had been doing nothing more than that: wishing him joy in an increasingly darkening season. Ironically, their wishes just brought him lower and lower. He ended that first holiday season on a discouraged-but-not-defeated note. He’d find her. His Match was out there, somewhere. 

There was always next Christmas. 

The next Christmas came and went, followed by the next Christmas and the next, and he was still alone. Ian grew more bitter with every passing year. It seemed that people threw those words around like confetti, yet none of them were truly meant for him. None of them held any _meaning_. Those words that were just words to everyone else were the key to his happiness. 

Eventually Ian decided that he wouldn’t be held hostage by the concept of a Match. He wouldn’t let the words tattooed on his arm control his life, and he set out to make his own fate. He started a successful career as a professor of astrophysics, traveled all over the world, and did his best to forget the holidays when they came around. He didn’t marry, figuring that it would be a waste of time to marry anyone that wasn’t meant for him considering the astronomical divorce rate amongst non-Matched couples. He didn’t want that fate for himself, ta. He’d much rather be alone and spurn Christmas.

Now here it was, the twenty-fifth Christmas after his soulmark had appeared, and he’d given up all hope. Some people never met their Match, and he assumed he was one of them. It was fine. His life was great - if not a bit lonely. 

He just wished people would quit saying ‘Merry Christmas’ to him. He’d be fine if only he could stop hearing the reminder that he was destined to be alone forever.

~*~O~*~

“Mum, I’m sorry. Shareen called out and I need the hours.”

“Mickey wanted to take you out for your birthday!”

She rolled her eyes. “My birthday was last week. He could have taken me out this past weekend but he got pissed at the local and spent all day Saturday sleeping it off. Besides, he doesn’t really want to do anything. He just wants to repeat my soulmark to me over and over again in the hopes that I’ll relent and declare him my one true love, same as he has for the last five days since it appeared.”

Jackie Tyler put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at her daughter. “Mickey is a good bloke, Rose Tyler, and you’d do well to keep him!”

Rose shook her head and reached for her coat. “Can’t, Mum. I’ve decided I’m going to be one of those people who finds the person they’re supposed to be with. I’m not marrying a non-Match, and you know as well as I do that Mickey is just that: a non-Match.”

“Still, Rose,” Jackie went on, softening just a bit, “you could do much worse. What if your Match is a bad person? I mean honestly, his first words to you are going to be rude. Doesn’t sound like a nice bloke to me!”

“You worry too much, Mum. I’m sure he’s a perfectly nice bloke, and I’ll just manage to catch him on a bad day.”

“But Rose -”

She leaned over and kissed her mother’s cheek. “No buts about it. I’m going in to pick up this extra shift and I’m not marrying Mickey. And that’s that.”

Jackie scowled. “You’ve been working in that shop too long. It’s giving you airs and graces, it is!”

Rose rolled her eyes again. “Yes, Mum. But it’s still my job and I’m going to miss the bus if I don’t hurry.” She kissed her mother’s cheek again, then threw open the door. “Bye!”

Before Jackie could say another word Rose shut the door behind her and leaned against it, letting out a long breath. She couldn’t admit it, but her mother was right. What if her Match was a terrible person? Was she making a mistake by not marrying Mickey? What if her Match never came along?

She didn’t have time to ponder on it, though. She’d been telling the truth - if she didn’t hustle, she’d miss the bus and be late for her shift at Henrik’s. There was no time to dwell on her soulmark and who might be her Match. After all, she’d only been twenty-one for five days. She had the rest of her life.

There was plenty of time.

~*~O~*~

Ian was more irritable than usual, which was saying something. All he wanted was a hot cup of coffee before he had to stand in front of forty blank faces and try to prep the owners of those vacant stares for their astronomy final next week. It was a thankless job, a pointless one, and one that was made unbearable by the time of the year, when _everything_ seemed to be twice as miserable as normal. It was made even worse, however, by a lack of caffeination. A lack he was trying to correct now.

Over the past twenty years he’d gotten better at blocking Christmas out so he didn’t have to think about it too much. He’d gotten good at avoiding high-cheer areas, and if he couldn’t outright avoid them he’d learned to ignore them for the most part. 

He wasn’t sure what it was, but that seemed harder to do this particular holiday season. Christmas music played louder in the stores and coffee shops, bell ringers seemed more jubilant than usual, and there were more carol singers on the street - even in the middle of the work day! It was madness. He compensated as best he could, putting in earbuds to block out the sounds of the season and avoiding eye contact whenever possible. But it seemed the harder he tried, the more boisterous the season got. 

Today was the worst. There were smiling families everywhere. He couldn’t seem to avoid looking at the festive trees and twinkling lights; in fact, his eyes just seemed drawn to them. Everytime he caught himself doing it he scowled. Christmas was a worthless holiday, and -

_oof_

He felt someone’s shoulder slam into his arm, catching the cord of his earbuds and yanking them loose. He spun around to give the sharp side of his tongue to the man who had run into him (nevermind that it was probably at least in part his fault), but he didn’t see a man. Just a young woman bent at the waist a little, looking down at the ground. Surely she wasn’t the one who had hit him? She adjusted her hair, tucking it behind her ear. He got a look at her face and was stunned for a minute. Then she straightened, he got a better look at her, and his breath caught in his throat.

Her eyes were brown - he noticed that right away. Her mouth was wide and lush, just perfect for kissing. Blonde hair framed her face as if to display her gorgeous features. And bloody hell, those features were gorgeous. He felt his hard edges softening for the first time in - he couldn’t even remember how long. But there was something about those eyes…

Then she smiled, and he felt a bit concussed. That smile...it could light the whole of the city, he was sure. It was certainly brighter than any tree he’d ever seen. A _true_ Christmas miracle. 

He opened his mouth to speak. He thought about telling her his name, apologizing for hitting her...something. Anything. But before he could figure out what to say, she spoke through her beautiful smile. 

“Merry Christmas!”

All of the reasons Ian had for hating the season came flooding back to him in an instant. The good feelings he’d been entertaining for a few precious moments were gone like a wisp of smoke on the wind and he shook his head, scowling. He should have known better than to feel anything other than miserable this time of year. Bloody hell. Christmas was a nightmare. He wanted to scream, to smash something, to make something or someone else feel as bad as he did.

But he practiced the smallest amount of self control. He simply looked at the still-smiling girl and, with all the bitterness he had in his heart, he told her to bugger off.

~*~O~*~

_”Bugger off.”_

Rose gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth, but the man missed her reaction. He’d already stormed off, his shoulders hunched and hands jammed into the pockets of his coat. He looked utterly unapproachable, like a caged animal, but she couldn’t let him get away. He’d said the words written on her arm!

 _Bugger off._

She had no choice: she had to follow. He may not be her Match, but she needed to know that for sure before he walked away forever. 

“Hey! Mister! Wait up!”

The man paid her no mind and she took off after him. Shoppers and pedestrians seemed to materialize from nowhere and she dodged them as best she could, trying to catch up to the man in the black wool coat with the silver hair. Once she did, she slowed down a bit so that she was walking by his side. She turned so that she was walking sideways, her body facing him, and took in his scowling face. He looked properly angry, and she wasn’t sure what she’d done to cause that. She brushed it off, though. If he was her Match, he’d be cheerful soon enough and if he _wasn’t_ her Match, well, he wasn’t her problem. 

Seeing him in profile as she was, he reminded her of a Roman coin. Not who she would have matched herself with but she was flexible, if nothing else. 

“Didn’t I tell you to bugger off?” he asked, not bothering to look at her. 

Rose beamed. “Yes! You did, actually, and that’s why I’m here.”

“You’re following me because I told you to go away?” he bit out incredulously, turning to face her with his brows furrowed in annoyance. Rose couldn’t help it, her breath caught in her throat. 

Oh, he was handsome, even glowering as he was. Not in a way that she would have likely noticed in a club or at the local, but his eyes...there was something about his eyes. They were blue - ice blue - and she felt almost hypnotized looking into them. Not that the rest of his face wasn’t appealing, it very much was. His features were strong, arresting, even if a bit sharp, and she found herself inexplicably drawn to this handsome man who was anything but a pretty boy.

“Well you’re a bit of alright, aren’t you?” she speculated out loud. 

He gave her a sour look. “Who the bloody hell are you?”

“I don’t know,” she answered cheerfully. “Probably nobody.”

“Then what do you want with me?”

She gave him a bright grin, her tongue going to the corner of her mouth, and she was gratified to see his eyes followed it. 

“You told me to bugger off,” she explained cheerfully.

“And yet you’re still here.” He rolled his eyes and kept walking, although he tucked his dangling earbuds into his pocket.

“Yep!” she chirped, turning to face forwards and falling into step beside him. “Figured you were a bloke worth getting to know.”

The man snorted. “Doubt it.”

“Oh, just let me be the judge of that. What’s your name?”

“If I tell you, will you go away?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” she grinned. “Gotta find a couple of things out, first. One of those things is your name.”

He came to the zebra crossing and pressed the button to cross the street. “Ian. M’name’s Ian. You can go now.”

“That’s a nice name, Ian,” she replied, smiling up at him. 

“It’s just a name.”

The light changed and he stepped into the zebra crossing. She followed. “Aren’t you going to ask me mine?”

“Not interested.”

“I think you might be.”

He spun on his heel when he cleared the street and found himself on the corner. “Look, I don’t know who you are or what you want. I know that I have somewhere to be very soon, you’re holding me up, and I wish you’d go the hell away.”

“I’m going to be late, too, mate, but this is important.”

“What could possibly be so important that you are following a strange man all over town?”

“You may not be so strange after all,” she smiled at him. 

Ian shook his head. “You’re daft. I’m being accosted in the middle of the street by a daft woman.”

“Could be,” she answered cheerfully. “Tell me, you wouldn’t happen to have ‘Merry Christmas’ written on your arm, would you?”

~*~O~*~

Ian stared blankly at the girl in front of him, confused and unwilling to believe what he’d heard. There was no way…she was so young, so radiant, so _bright_. It couldn’t possibly be...

The girl just kept smiling though, and the longer he stared at her, dumbfounded, the brighter she grinned. 

“It is, isn’t it? You’ve got ‘Merry Christmas’ right…” She raised her hand and brought two fingers to the inside of his forearm, stroking his jacket above the place where his soulmark lay. “Here. Don’t you?”

Words didn’t seem to be at his command. “How…” 

She pushed back the sleeve of her jumper, turning her arm. “Because I have ‘bugger off’ right here.”

Ian gaped at the words he’d uttered just a few minutes before. But...how could this be? He’d given up… Years ago, he’d given up on the idea that she even existed. And here she was now with his words etched onto her skin, standing on a street corner at 2pm, and _oh, God, he was talking to his Match._ He should probably say something clever...endearing...romantic…

“I don't...I...” he stammered.

Her tongue came out to the corner of her mouth and she grinned brightly, pleased with his reaction. “Tell you what, Ian, I think this is a significant enough life event that I can blow off work for the afternoon. What about you? You were headed somewhere important?”

It certainly wasn’t important anymore. Not in the least. The woman he’d been looking forward to meeting his whole life was standing right in front of him, and she was stunning. Absolutely gorgeous. He was the luckiest bastard that had ever walked the planet. 

He knew, instinctively, that there was nothing more important than her. 

“I’m a professor,” he finally got out. “I had exam prep today.”

“Oh, yeah, I suppose that’s pretty important…” she said, sounding disappointed. 

“I can have my TA handle it,” he announced, feeling clever for coming up with a solution. 

The girl tilted her head to the side. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re right, this is pretty important.” He smiled at her for the first time, and it felt unusual on his face. Unusual, but good. He liked it. 

Her own smile brightened, and she took a deep breath. “Can you smell chips?”

“Yeah.”

“I want chips.”

He laughed. “Me, too.”

Her smile was intoxicating and it occurred to him that this was the face he was destined to wake up to every morning for the rest of his life. He’d found her. She was it. 

Christmas bells rang in the distance, and his heart soared.

“Right then, you can ring your TA, then chips it is.” She held out her hand to him, low beside her body, and he looked at it for a moment before he grasped it. Her skin was warm in his hand, soft, and without a thought they both turned so that their fingers could lace through each other’s. He marvelled at the fit. 

“What’s your name?” he asked, feeling thick. Here he was, holding hands with his Match, and he didn’t even know her name. 

“Rose. Rose Tyler.”

“Rose Tyler,” he repeated. “I’m so glad I met you.”

Squeezing her hand, they stepped off into the hustle and bustle of Christmas cheer that surrounded them, his opinion of the holiday completely different from how it had been a scant fifteen minutes before. As they walked he caught the sound of carol singers and found himself, for the first time in years, singing along.

_Joy to the world…_

~*~O~*~

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he told her fourteen months later as she settled into the chair.

“Of course I do. Why would I want the evidence of how grumpy you can be tattooed on me forever?”

She was teasing him, he knew, and he bent down to capture her lips in a kiss. “You’re daft.”

“Married you, didn’t I?”

He beamed at her, his brightest, daftest grin - the same grin he always wore every time he was reminded that this fantastic, beautiful creature was his wife. 

“That you did.”

The tattoo artist came in and sat down in a rolling stool, pulling a tray of materials over to him. “Right. So, have a look at the design one more time, and we’ll get started.”

He handed a sheet of paper over, and Ian and Rose Noble looked down at it together. The words that were currently written on her arm would be changed in the design, turning ‘bugger off’ into ‘Better With Two’. The words would be accented with holly leaves as a nod to the season they’d met. Their wedding date - 12-24-16 - would be inscribed beneath. 

“Better with two?” she asked. 

He bent to kiss her again. “Better with two,” he agreed.

They both turned and nodded to the tattooist, and the needle began to buzz.


End file.
